


clan to clan

by Koto



Series: brave the storm for its lightning [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish slice of life, Fluff, Gen, Lavellan Backstory, eirlana lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koto/pseuds/Koto
Summary: Long before the Breach and before she lived on the plains near Wycome, she called the thunderous Storm Coast home.





	clan to clan

Sunlight cascaded in streams through the travelling clouds, briefly lighting up piney hills, rocky shoreline, grey swells, and her kayak, rising with the wave beneath.

With two strokes, Eirlana spun the tip of her boat toward the leeward side of a craggy rock. She paddled quickly, forcefully, Tunehn’s boat bobbing at the edge of her vision. Somewhere above, gulls squawked. Spray bloomed when waves crashed into distant bluffs.

Once she reached calmer water, Eirlana slowed and glanced west, at the clouds creeping across the sky. “Storm’s come.”

Tunehn glided up beside her. “Think Dae’s ships are in for one, too?”

“Maybe. But she always says that Kirkwall’s stifling in the summer.”

“And smells like piss, too. I’d rather see Antiva and Rivian.”

Eirlana frowned. “Sariel’s fleet? And be away on voyage for three years?”

“Means three years away from these blighted storms.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. When’s the last time we had nothing but blue sky?” Eirlana paused and Tunehn poked her shoulder. “Exactly. If even you can’t remember, it’s too long.”

“You’d join the farthest ranging fleet for good weather?”

“Not just that. I wanna join anyway, any fleet. Don’t you?”

“Maybe the coastlands’ fleet. What? I like it here.”

“Storms and all?”

“Well, the lightning.”

Tunehn rolled her eyes. “Ya know, just ‘cause you’re a mage —”

Eirlana poked her back. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“'kay, what is it?”

She looked away, pretending to inspect her paddle. “I want to be able to use a storm’s lightning, someday. Plenty of chances to practice here.”

“Should I start writing you an eulogy now or…?”

Eirlana splashed her then charged ahead, aiming for a familiar recess in the bluffs and shouting over her shoulder, “Race you!”

When the hulls bumped against the sand of the cove, they leaped out and tugged the kayaks ashore, bare feet splashing.

With their boats stored in the shed, they walked into the woods, each with a basket of salmon hanging from her shoulders and fishing spears in hand. The ceaseless sound of waves faded behind wind-battered pines, replaced by the creaks and groans of those pines. Eirlana followed Tunehn along the narrow path, which wound its way up a rocky slope and past Fen’Harel’s statue, half-shrouded by boughs. A turn around a boulder and Elgar’nan’s carving loomed above her at the camp’s entrance. Beyond, flashes of _aravel_ -red glowed in pockets of sunlight.

“What’s the catch?”

Eirlana looked up to see Ren in the sentry’s tree, legs dangling over the platform’s edge. “Four each.”

Her brother grinned, _vallaslin_ crinkling. “A few more years and you might be up to challenging Caen.”

“Sure,” Tunehn snorted as she walked beneath him, “if they’d ever let us start hunting seals. Or at least fish outside the isles.”

Ren tapped his tattooed cheek. “Gotta be older for that.” He winked and turned his gaze back to the forest, grin sliding into blank-faced vigilance.

Walking into camp, Eirlana glanced around the commons — council’s _aravel_ which doubled as the archives, greenhouse, forge, huntmaster’s station — and the dozen trails leading to scores of family wagons, many of which were quieter than during winter months. With all the fleets gone, less than half of Varadahlen’s one thousand remained ashore. Daenin and Revas’ crews would rejoin the clan in two months at _Arlathvhen_ , while Sariel would be away another year.

Eirlana and Tunehn set down their baskets under the huntmaster’s tarp, beside the other young fishers, already cleaning their own catches.

The door to the smokehouse thumped shut. “You’re late,” Virassan shouted, raspy voice carrying through the trees. “Get gutting. And Eirlana, Isan was after you. See him after.”

Halfway to her knees, she froze at the Keeper’s name. “Okay.”

* * *

Eirlana sat, legs folded beneath her on the rug and hands curled around the teacup in her lap. To her left and right, her parents waited. She felt nauseous.

_What is this? What’s going on?_

On the other side of the sunken hearth, Isan sipped his tea. “As you know,” he began, cup resting in his palm, “while we have been graced with many children of magical talent in recent years, other clans have not been as fortunate. During such times, it’s customary to send a single mage —”

The queasiness vanished, replaced by a chill.

“— to each clan in need, if feasible. While the decision isn’t final until your approval is given, Eirlana is among the council’s chosen.”

Jaw stuck, she stared at Isan. _My spellcasting. He said it was ‘exceptionally accurate,’ that only Faro…oh._ She sighed, shoulders dropping, and pulled her gaze from Faro’s father, her own uncle, to the floor. _It won’t be the Keeper’s child who leaves._

Arion shifted, her robes rustling. “How soon?”

“At _Arlathvhen_.” After a pause, Isan continued. “That this comes on such short notice is…regrettable, but it’s vital to pair apprentices to their mentors as young as possible.”

“And which clan?”

“Lavellan.”

Stone scraped against wood as Tanmi lifted their teacup. In her peripheral, Eirlana saw them turn to her. “ _Da’len_?”

“I —” She swallowed, raised her eyes to Isan, and saw the truth in the Keeper’s unblinking gaze. Something in her chest tightened. _‘We are bound to each other, to every clan and every one of the People.’ Every lesson, he tells us that. I don’t have a choice._ She gripped her cup, fingers straining, and nodded. “I’ll go.”

* * *

Arms crossed, Eirlana leaned against the rail and stared at the horizon, where grey sky bled into grey sea. At the edge of her vision sailed another two dozen ships, from frigates to ketches, all blazing with red sails.

From somewhere behind her, the captain shouted an order and someone hurried to obey, bare feet thumping the deck. The rigging creaked and sails fluttered. Below, waves frothed and fell.

Tunehn stumbled to the rail and stretched her arms over the edge. “Lana, wanna climb?”

“Hahren might throw us overboard this time.”

“Anything to get off this ship,” she moaned.

She forced a laugh. “Two weeks and you’re already bored. How are you going to survive years with a fleet?”

“Well, everyone’s a deckhand, right? No time to be bored.”

Eirlana hummed, heavier words waiting on her tongue, yet said nothing. Shoulders bumping with the ship’s rocking, they watched the waves.

“Land ho!”

Eirlana turned, caught Tunehn’s grin, and raced her to the bow, irritated shouts on their heels. Elbow to elbow, they climbed up the figurehead, carved in a halla’s likeness, and squinted into the distance.

Ahead, still a sliver on the horizon, curled the Vimmark range.

* * *

Light spilled through the _aravel_ sails to cast red shadows on the grass and the baskets of honeyed _naal_ , half-hidden by baskets of corn.

Eirlana inched closer, following Raan.

“Hurry!” Tunehn hissed, palms thumping her shoulders.

Raan glanced back and frowned. “You’d make a terrible hunter.”

“Hey, I fish—” she started, before both Merrill and Tamlen shushed her.

Raan edged forward, staying in the _aravel_ ’s shadow, and watched the Sabrae bakers. Without a sound, she darted around the corner and began snatching _naal_ and laying them on a square of cloth.

As she grabbed the fifth, a baker strode over, reaching for the corn, and froze.

So did Raan.

Rolling their eyes, the baker turned away.

After Raan crept back, the five of them sprinted through the _tel'halam'shiralan_ , laughing and running faster whenever an elder shot them a questioning look.

On the slope above the massive encampment, they sprawled, ate, and watched the ships sway at anchor in the bay.

Tamlen leaned forward, licking honey off his fingers. “They’re sending you where again?”

“Lavellan,” Eirlana said.

“That’s north, right?”

“Northeast, on a river and on the ocean.”

“Hey, that’s good!” Merrill smiled. “You’ll still be on the water.”

“Yeah.” _It won’t be the same, though_ , she thought.

Raan threw an arm over her shoulders. “No moping. You’ll see everyone at the next _Arlathvhen_.”

“Yeah, in ten years,” Tunehn muttered.

“Ten years we’ll all be too busy learning to hunt or craft or memorizing history to think.”

“And we can write letters, too,” Merrill added and then, eyes brightening, grabbed her hand. “We can compare what we’re learning!”

Smiling, Eirlana squeezed her fingers. “I’d like that.”

Tunehn poked her cheek. “You’d better write me, too.”

“I’ll write eveyone,” she said, a warm feeling swelling in her chest. “Promise.”

Leaning on Raan, Tamlen grinned. “Good. We wouldn’t wanna forget you.”

Raan shoved him off, swearing on the Creators’ names, and Eirlana laughed.

* * *

“ _Andaran atish-an_ ,” the Keeper began, extending an arm, robes shifting in the breeze. “I am Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan.”

Eirlana grasped her arm just below the elbow and met her gaze. Amber eyes, cool brown skin, and a deeply lined face. “ _Andaran atish’an_ , Keeper. Eirlana Varadahlen.”

“No longer, _da’len_ ,” Deshanna said quietly, gently. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She sat down and smoothed her robes. The Keepers sat adjacent to her, to her left and right, and faced each other. All three bowed and the ceremony began.

Isan opened Varadahlen’s record tome and carefully turned its pages, as Deshanna did the same with her clan’s.

_No. My clan_ , Eirlana thought and hid her trembling hands in her sleeves.

Isan stopped on the page with Eirlana’s name, erased words with a touch of magic, inked his pen, and began to write. She knew, without looking, what he wrote — adding ‘ _na’lin'_ between her name and Varadahlen, then ' _vhenalin_ Lavellan.’

Deshanna reached the page with her own family’s lineage and added Eirlana's name. At the end, after Belarin and Tanmi’s names, they both wrote ‘ _isha’len_ Deshanna.’

‘Of Clan Lavellan’ and ‘child of Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan’ Eirlana read silently, over and over, until neither phrase sounded wrong.

* * *

Violet and silent, lightning danced on her fingertips, arcing no higher than the length of her thumb. Eirlana quelled it, then cast again. Bolts as long as her hand flashed. She stretched out both hands, cast a trap on the sand, and tossed a rock in. Lightning sprang up and cleaved it into tiny pieces.

_This is why the council chose me. Why I’m leaving._

For half an hour, she practiced, setting and springing traps, aiming single bolts for specific targets, holding barriers, and rebuilding the rocks she shattered.

When her time was up, she walked back to the _tel'halam'shiralan_  and wound her way through to Deshanna’s _aravel_. The Keeper herself arrived mere heartbeats later.

“Thank you for waiting, _da’len_ ,” she said and turned, silvery braids shifting across her shoulders, to reveal a white-haired child standing behind her. With the Deshanna’s hand on their shoulder, the child stepped forward. “Eirlana, this is Vin. Vin, Eirlana.”

_Not a child_ , Eirlana realized. Despite their height and scrawny build, Vin was of age with her. She moved closer and offered her arm. “ _Andaran atish-an_.”

For a moment, Vin stared, expression unreadable, then approached and took her arm. Freckles, far more than Eirlana had, spread across their tawny skin. “Hi.”

“My children, welcome to the clan,” Deshanna said and slid open the door to her _aravel_.

_No. Ours_ , Eirlana thought and followed her new kin inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for Dalish record-keeping and adoption into another's bloodline and the words "isha'len," "na'lin," and "vhenalin" go to vir-ghilani from their meta here: http://vir-ghilani.tumblr.com/post/157784316599/to-be-perfectly-honest-i-named-ellorian-and-thel.
> 
> "Tel'halam'shiralan" is my own and refers to the place where Arlathvhen is held (I really doubt it's constructed correctly but I tried). "Naal" I also made up.


End file.
